Moony's Mate
by LJ Summers
Summary: The War is over at last and a trio of heroes comes to take up posts at a Hogwarts vastly different than two of them grew up with. Remus Lupin is not at all unhappy with the changes—especially when Moony finds his mate amongst the new faces. An AU for ShayaLonnie's birthday! UPDATED to ADD the PREQUEL: Lily's Vengeance.
1. Moony's Mate for ShayaLonnie

_A/N: For **ShayaLonnie**. A Voldemort-didn't-die, Horcrux-Free, Postwar AU with a Wolfmate Remione pairing. FLUFF! Lots of FLUFF!_

 _Just a one-shot I dashed off today. Okay, 5/6 of it today. Happy birthday, Shaya!_

* * *

 ** _30 August 2001, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_**

"It looks better than I expected," Remus Lupin remarked, eyeing the Great Hall of his alma mater. "Sirius, do you think they've got the same picture to get into the kitchens?" He grinned, a shadow in his green eyes even though they smiled.

"A picture?" Harry inquired, pacing the length of the Hall and obviously taking note of all avenues of ingress and egress.

"A small still life featuring fruit. You tickle the pear and it opens a hidden door that leads to the kitchens."

Harry regarded him incredulously. "Tickling a _pear_." He shifted his focus to Sirius. "What kind of school is this, Dad?"

"The best," Sirius said, his voice soft and reflective in tone. "So sorry you couldn't attend here, son."

The young man with the pale lightning flare on his forehead snorted as he stared at the ceiling. "I dunno. I think we did all right, the three of us. Didn't you say the ceiling was enchanted?"

Remus sighed, studying the high beams overhead. Burn marks marred the wood, but the stone in between appeared sound. "It was, Prongslet. It was."

The young man sighed as well. "C'mon, Remus. Quit calling me that. The students won't take me seriously if they hear you or Dad use that nickname."

Sirius, silver making dramatic streaks at his temples, twirled his ebony cane. Despite the very best that the Healers could do, the final confrontation with Voldemort only months before had left the Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black with lingering injuries. But his pale gray eyes were still sharp with humor and his body was in no other way less for the stress of the past twenty years. Remus often amused himself by assessing all the women that put themselves in Lord Black's way.

"You're only going to be here for, what, a week? Maybe two?"

"Unless I find a pretty girl, maybe," Harry allowed. He hopped up on the end of what was the Ravenclaw table, traditionally. "I'm ready to just, you know, be _normal_ , right?"

"Right," Remus and Sirius said together. Normal would be good.

Normal would be great, in fact.

Normal, though, would always be just out of reach for a werewolf.

* * *

Normal hadn't been a part of Remus's life since he was four years old, but he had managed to do all right, between his parents and his friends at Hogwarts. Indeed, until Peter had been killed by Voldemort himself, the four Marauders had been friends and had lived together in Godric's Hollow once the prophecy had been given in 1980. Potter Manor had been warded to a fare-thee-well, with the most robust blood wards the Blacks had developed over the years and with all the active runes that the Potters had set into their land. The Potters and the Longbottoms had "houseguests" round the clock, as had three other families, but to no avail.

Voldemort chose the Potters as his nemeses, perhaps because Harry had been born on the final day of July or perhaps because Snape had wanted to claim Lily Potter out from under James's own nose, thereby paying the Marauders back in a horrible way for schoolboy trials. Remus had been there the night Voldemort attacked the Potters in the company of Snape and a handful of other Death Eaters. Remus had seen Snape arrive. Saw him leave, too, with Lily bound and petrified in front of him. Remus had seen James fall to no fewer than three Death Eaters.

And Remus had heard Harry cry for his mum.

Abandoning the Order of the Phoenix, Remus and Sirius had taken Harry and as much of his life as they could shrink into a rucksack on their way out of Britain. Voldemort had gradually grown confident enough to take over Wizarding Britain and the Wizengamot, killing Muggleborn magicals as soon as they'd been identified.

"I heard there was a nursery school here?" Harry inquired as Headmistress McGonagall gave them a tour before the staff dinner that evening. "We saw a Magical school in Kyoto that had one when I was small. It was great. I learnt a lot."

McGonagall smiled thinly, but Remus could see that her eyes were pained. "We had one, yes. Established in 1984, I believe." The older witch turned to Remus. "You, Mister Lupin, know how hard it can be being a cast-out minority in our society."

No sting accompanied the headmistress's pronouncement; it was a truth Remus had spent a lifetime working around. "I do indeed, ma'am. What happened with the Muggleborn?"

"I heard they Obliviated the families?" Sirius asked, wincing.

"Sadly, yes. But we raised the children in safety here, with sponsorship and a full knowledge of their heritage. Wand rights at age eight, if you can believe that. Many powerful wizards and witches were identified thereby. Ah, here is the Defense room, Mister Lupin. Mister Potter, you will be speaking mostly in this room, if that is acceptable. This will allow you to, well—" She broke off, looking rather awkward, which made Remus smile a little behind one hand.

Harry didn't hide his own rueful smile. "Allow me to tailor the details in an age-appropriate manner. I _have_ done this before, though only the once."

Minerva touched Harry's shoulder briefly. "Exactly. Thank you. And you, Mister Lupin, will, I hope, find this to be an amicable environment for your instruction. Would you two like to continue the tour?"

Sirius barked a laugh. "I'm not letting them leave me alone with you, Minerva!"

"Mister Black. Really."

Remus enjoyed seeing the fresh paint on many wooden doors, as well as the framed photographs interspersed amongst the paintings. Many of the subjects of the paintings waved silently as they passed, but all of them looked duly respectful of Minerva and her tall, pointed hat.

Remus saw an open door that they bypassed utterly. "What was in there?" he asked. "It smells . . . like the infirmary?"

Sirius nodded. "Did Pomfrey's domain . . . is she . . .?"

Remus's heart clenched to think that Madam Pomfrey, who had been so kind to him for his Hogwarts years with all of his transformations and injuries, might not have survived the deadly attack of the Death Eaters on the venerable school.

Harry wasn't waiting for an answer and Remus supposed he could understand that. He didn't have any memories associated with this school, after all. He'd never been here. "Hello," he said into the open room. Remus exchanged a look with Sirius.

Harry was an unrelentingly curious fellow.

"Hello?" The voice was inquisitive, pitched to hit Remus's sensitive ear pleasantly, and he couldn't help the peaceful relaxation that seemed to ease his facial muscles as he and Sirius made as if to pull Harry out of the infirmary-scented room. "Wait, I think I know you," the woman's voice said again.

"Hermione, dear. Please be introduced to Harry Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin."

Remus was all about watching Harry chat the young woman up—she looked to be perhaps a year or so older than Harry but Remus doubted the lad would mind—when Harry shook Hermione's hand.

"Hello, Mister Potter, Mister Black, Mister Lupin." She only shook Harry's hand at that juncture, but she smiled at each of them before looking to Minerva expectantly.

"This is Hermione Granger, one of our own here at Hogwarts, and she's teaching a class for our advanced students in the Healing Arts, as well as introductory Transfiguration for first and second years, and Magical Britain from the—what was it, dear?"

"Magical Britain from the Outside In. It's for the Muggle-born and Muggle-raised amongst our students." The young woman smiled in a very careful manner, Remus decided. "It was something I felt could be beneficial when I was a student and I persuaded the Board of Governors to let me teach it this year." Her cheeks warmed with a blush in what was, Remus decided, a rather beguiling way. She was quite fetching and he thought that Harry might have found the "pretty girl" he'd mentioned earlier.

"Granger," Sirius said, pursing his lips. "Related to Dagworth-Granger, the potioneer?"

The young woman sighed and flicked imaginary lint from her severely cut robes. "No. Muggleborn, Mister Black." Her cinnamon-brown gaze swept the three of them. "And please, please accept my thanks for all you did for, for all of us. You're heroes."

She moved past Harry to take Sirius's free hand in both of her own and then came to Remus and took his hand, looking into his eyes with a fierce sort of emotion. Shock bolted through Remus's entire body, but the awareness that settled into his mind and heart sent his inner wolf, poor Moony, off into a wild howl of delight.

 _Mate! Mate! She's our Mate!_

Nothing in Remus's varied experiences had prepared him to be caught in such surprise, shock, awe, glee, trepidation, and wonder. Heart pounding, nostrils flaring, he felt that his irises had gone from green to gold as Sirius made some excuses while hustling him from the corridor,.

"Is he quite all right?" Hermione Granger called behind them.

"I, I think so, Miss Granger," Harry said, sounding perturbed. "I'll go find out, yeah? Will you be at the staff dinner?"

"Yes, of course. If I can be of any help—"

* * *

"What, by Merlin's bloody broom, was that, Moony?" They had made it to the Hospital Wing using Sirius's sense of smell, of all things, because it was no longer where it had been thirty years before. "You came all over, like, pre-moon, you know?"

"She's, she's Moony's mate, Padfoot," Remus whispered, leaning his head against the cool stone wall. Even in late summer, the interior castle walls were cool and dry.

"Moony's mate?" Sirius let go of the tight grip he'd been maintaining on Remus's arm. "Sorry 'bout that," he muttered. Remus shook it off. "Just got a bit worried, yeah?"

"Three days. I'm on edge a bit, but not to worry. I'll be all right. Effing bloody hell, Pads."

A laugh filled the first room of the Infirmary. "Lighten up, Moony! This is supposed to be a good thing!"

"What's a good thing?" Harry demanded, entering with a bewildered and frustrated air to him. "Hermione was about set to, I don't know, take your temperature and set monitoring charms on you!"

Harry. Remus was still wrapping his mind around the idea that the elusive dream of every werewolf he'd met—finding the mate to share their cursed life—was his after all this time when he had to take a dose of basic reality. _Harry_ had seemed to fancy the girl. And _Harry_ was a far better prospect for a young professor than an old and scarred werewolf. He swallowed and met Sirius's questioning look with a shake of his head. "Moon's up in three days," he said slowly.

It wasn't enough of an excuse. Harry crossed his arms and Remus was reminded that this young man with all of twenty-one years to his credit had defeated Voldemort only six months before. "Uncle Remus. Pull the other one."

Sirius made a harrumphing sound. "It's not like you can keep it a secret from him."

"No, it's not," Harry said. "What is it?"

"It's just that . . . Miss Granger . . ." Remus made himself meet the younger wizard's gaze. "Moony . . ."

"Blimey. Moony fancies her? She's your mate, Uncle Remus?" Delight and a sort of bright anticipation shone in Harry's brilliant green eyes. "That's amazing! All those books you've had me read said that hardly ever happened. Congratulations!" He gripped Remus's shoulders and shook him once, lightly.

Baffled and bemused and still off-kilter due to the momentous discovery, Remus blew out a breath. "But, wait. I thought you, well . . ."

"Uncle Remus," Harry said with a slanted smile. "If she's your mate, then she can't be mine, yeah?"

"Boy's got a point," Sirius stated, balancing his cane in his palm as if he were a third year showing off for some bird. "Smart kid, my son."

Harry grinned. "So, are you going to tell her?"

"No!" Remus's response was instinctive. "I, er, don't want to frighten her and I don't even know her and what if she's got a problem with werewolves?"

"Remus Lupin!" Sirius and Harry abandoned any lighthearted approach, both coming to stand directly in front of him as if to keep him from dashing off.

"Mate," his oldest friend said after a moment. Sirius dragged a hand through his hair and appeared to be thinking hard. "I get that you want to get to know her. You wouldn't be you if you didn't. Fine. But. You've always, all these years, refused to get involved with someone because of Moony. And now Moony wants someone himself. Don't let your worries make you turn away from something good."

"Besides," Harry added with a curl to his voice, "you'd be able to stop your pre-moon, er, stress-relief nights if you had a mate, Uncle Remus. Good for you both, yeah?"

Remus felt his cheeks catch fire. "You knew about those?"

Laughter filled the Hospital Wing, and Poppy Pomfrey put in an appearance. As she was introduced to the Savior of Wizarding Britain, Remus's mate issue was allowed to be set aside.

For the time being.

* * *

"So, I propose a round of introductions, as there are new faces with us this year," Minerva suggested, waving her arm to encompass all those sitting around the temporary round table that had been set up in the Great Hall for the evening meal. "Septima, if you would begin for us, please?"

A striking brunette with a strong, square jaw stood and nodded at everyone. She wore classic black professorial robes with green piping. "Septima Vector, Head of Slytherin. I have the Arithmancy lessons for those brave enough to take them on." She smiled sharply. "Though I hear gossip that keeps the faint-hearted away."

Remus was sitting only three seats from Professor Vector, so he knew he'd have to have something to say in short order. First, though, he was made aware of Draco Malfoy, the new Potions Professor, who had taken over from Horace Slughorn. A sense that this was a tentative arrangement struck Remus in the expressions on everyone's faces. Malfoy had been a pure-blood elitist of a fellow, back in his own school days. Had his son taken on this mantle? Perhaps? Then, there was Bathsheda Babbling, who taught Ancient Runes—one of Remus's favorite classes, back in the day. She was a Hufflepuff, apparently. And then, the woman who had had all the fine hairs standing up since she'd settled in next to him.

Standing, she smoothed one hand down her rich brown robes. "I'm Hermione Granger, Slytherin," she said, smiling generally around the table. "Class of Ninety-Four. It's a long story," she added, looking a bit put out as she held up a hand to forestall the uprising of questions. "I teach Introductory Transfiguration, and if you see an orange kneazle with a puffy brown tail wandering about the castle, it's probably me. I also took on Advanced Healing for the N.E.W.T. level students as an elective, and the required Wizarding Customs class for the younger Muggle-borns who are new to this world." She nodded toward Madam Pomfrey. "I am honored to be able to assist Poppy in the Infirmary on occasion as well, so please feel free to come to me if you need some first aid."

Remus was just staring at her. Moony howled happily, feeling to Remus as if his alter-ego were hunkering down for a playful hunt of the self-confessed kneazle Animagus who sat next to him. Them? Maybe.

Hermione looked at him expectantly. "Your turn," she whispered, lips quirked in humor.

He caught a whiff of something from her, though. Something intriguing that had his inner wolf all but rolling over just before it was set to pounce in dominance. Was it any wonder Remus himself felt dizzy?

"Right, er, sorry." He stood and pulled at his tie. "Remus Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts." He glanced down at Hermione. "Gryffindor, Class of Seventy-Eight."

She mouthed "Touché" at him and he felt as if he'd won a prize or something.

"I'll be taking on all levels of Defense, of course," he went on to say, "but my first week will be featuring a young man I'm proud to call a friend, Harry Potter."

The applause was thunderous and Remus was happy to sit down and take a deep swallow from his water goblet as Harry was pelted with gratitude and amazement from most of the staff around the table.

"You and your friend with the cane are heroes as well," Professor Granger murmured under the continuing acclamations. "You were there with him."

Later, he would remember that it was unusual that she had pitched her voice low and quiet enough that only someone with enhanced hearing—like himself or a predatory Animagus, perhaps—would be able to hear her words.

At the dinner, though, he merely blushed. "Well, we were, but Harry's the one who did the deed. And he is a fierce and powerful wizard."

Harry proceeded to quiet the table and he was able to make his introduction brief. "Harry Potter, not a professor anywhere, thank Merlin. Thank you, too, for your kind reception. I'm just wanting to find what 'normal' means these days, you know?"

The soft laughter than ringed the room was kind, Remus decided. Perhaps Harry could find out what "normal" might mean.

One of them should be able to do that, right?

* * *

 ** _2 September 2001_**

"So, here are my notes, Harry. Make sure to check on everyone's text books in all the classes. Call roll, all that." He shifted a pile of parchments. "And here, here is the syllabus for the year. Read the opening statement on the top, convey my apologies, and tell them I'll be in the next morning." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Damned moon. Bloody inconvenient, to be happening the night before lessons begin."

Harry nodded with a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry about anything, Uncle Remus. I got this." With a wink, he added, "Fourth year Ravenclaws can't be any more terrifying than Tom Riddle."

Remus had to smile. "True enough. All right, so. Minerva said the Shack has been renovated and made ready. I've been taking my potions, and Sirius will be joining me shortly. Anything else I can do to help you prep for tomorrow?"

With a shake of his head, Harry came around the broad oak desk where Remus had his school things. "You've done, as always, a thorough job, Moony. Go on. I'll report in late tomorrow, yeah?"

"Right. Thank you, Harry."

* * *

 ** _3 September 2001_**

Even though the Wolfsbane potion kept Remus in his right mind during his transformation, it did nothing to alleviate the intense pain or physical distresses of becoming a werewolf and then returning to his human form. He ached in every conceivable way. Joints? All of them. Muscles? Screaming. Even his hair follicles were overtaxed and shouting.

"Oh, Professor Lupin. Budge over and lean on me, yeah?"

"What?" Remus stiffened, which made him hurt even more, but he wasn't going to—no. "What?" he demanded again. "What are you? Professor Granger, no, I—" Then, he internalized who she was, here in the misty light of the September morning. All the blood seemed to flood his face before falling back down to the earth again, leaving him even more weak and pale-feeling. "Bloody, fu—" He flushed. Again. "Sorry. I'm just— I didn't want you to—"

"Remus."

Heart pounding, practically hyperventilating, Remus held still as Hermione Granger took one of his hands in both of her own. He could smell her. Smell the faint hints of healing herbs that surrounded her. The aromas of ink, fresh parchment, and something lavender, which was soothing and relaxing. Moony, fresh from a night of play with Padfoot, seemed to luxuriate in the restful presence of the young woman.

 _Mate. Our Mate. She's ours!_

"I didn't want you to know. About me," he admitted after a few awkward moments.

She only shook her head so that the honey-brown curls that rested lightly about her shoulders brushed against his bare arm. "I knew. I'm a Healer. Poppy and I are both in the know about all our staff and students." With a gentle tug, she began walking him from the shack. "So come on, why don't you tell me how this happened to you and I'll reciprocate with any questions you might have, hm?" She angled a smile up to him—it wasn't like he could look away from her—that made hope dance in his chest. "Fair?"

He swallowed. "That would be . . . perfect, actually." He took a quick breath, feeling Moony press him and add his own brand of courage. "I'd, er, like to get to know you better, you know." When her face flushed a light pink shade, he smiled a bit. "You must have an interesting story behind you, as well."

A flash of pain in her eyes made him regret he'd said anything, but she nodded even so. "Most of us do, don't they?"

"Indeed."

* * *

"So, this has never happened," he muttered as if to himself. Sirius—who had left the shack earlier to get them both a bite to eat—offered him a muffin and wordlessly indicated he should elaborate. He did, glancing down at the tent that had sprung up under the stupid hospital gown he wore. "This, Pads. This!"

His best mate choked on his tea. "Oh, Moony. Here, have a pillow."

Embarrassed not to have summoned one himself, Remus thanked Sirius and ate the muffin, willing the heat in his groin to cool the hell off. "Can't believe it. I mean, it's the morning after and I shouldn't have the energy to even think—"

"Feeling, though? So, where's the future Missus Moony?"

"Sirius! Stop it!" He felt like a sixteen-year-old virgin, for Merlin's own sake.

"Professor Black, are you agitating my patient?"

Sirius sat down in a straight-backed chair next to Remus's cot. "No, ma'am, on my honor as a Professor. Just wanted to make sure he got a good breakfast."

"He should have more protein, post-transformation." With an arched brow, she added, "I have done my reading, you know. So. If you'd be so kind . . .?"

Sirius winked at her and made to leave the partitioned area, with a suggestive leer on his way out that only Remus could see.

"All right, Remus. It is all right if I call you that, isn't it?" She strolled around the cot to get behind him.

He followed her by scent alone, drawing in lungfuls of her warm aromas as if they could keep him alive all by themselves. "Of course, if I may call you Hermione."

"Of course. I intend," she said quietly as she performed some sort of charm over him, "to be your Healer this year, so that we can keep things on the quiet. Poppy said that was your preference." Her fingers were warm and easy as they parted the ridiculous gown at his back. There was no hesitation in her touch as her fingers skimmed his spine and brushed against the many, many scars there. "Not too bad. I have seen worse, you know. Now, here, ah, how's that?" she asked as a cooling sensation spread under his skin.

He sighed. "Wonderful." Then, he blushed. "Er, thank you, Hermione."

As she treated him, she asked about how he had been afflicted with lycanthropy. He told her about Fenrir Greyback—

"I've heard of him. He was here, you know, at that final battle."

Remus tensed up. "You saw him?"

She leaned over his shoulder and he could feel the warmth of her body through her robes. Her proximity soothed him and he relaxed a bit. "Not up close, no. But one of the Weasley brothers killed him. I believe there was a personal vendetta involved."

"I'd heard that Greyback got to young William Weasley," Remus said, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as Hermione spread a salve along the wounds on his ribs. He hadn't even noticed he was now bare from the waist up. But once he did, he didn't dare to move to interrupt her ministrations; her touch was everything he hadn't known he'd been missing his entire life.

"Is it your turn yet?" he asked, his voice sounding sleepy and fuzzy even to his own ears.

"My turn?"

"To tell me your story. I'd like to know a bit about the Healer who gets stuck with me this year."

He took the pain potions she offered and settled down on the cot after she'd bandaged him up. "Well, I was discovered to be a witch and in danger in 1984, when the Ministry began their horrible genocidal program . . ."

Refusing to take the sleeping draught she'd given him until she was done with her story, Remus was treated to a very interesting tale.

The Muggleborn Recovery Team had found Hermione due to a special feature in the Hogwarts vaults that somehow sensed early acts of magic amongst children in Britain. She had performed her first bouts of accidental magic just before her fifth birthday and the team, led by Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley, had basically kidnapped her from her mother and father before Obliviating the Doctors Granger.

"I know they did it to save us all," she told Remus. "But it was quite some time before I forgave either of the men. Only later as I read the Prophet and saw the wreckage left behind by the Ministry did I understand that they were only seeking to protect me and my parents. I sometimes go to see them, pretending to be a neighbor, but not too often." Her eyes welled with tears and she wiped at them awkwardly. "It's . . . hard, not to be remembered."

He reached for her hand though it stretched at healing wounds to do so. "I'm sorry," he murmured. Her fingers tightened around his and she actually shifted to sit on the cot with him as she continued her story.

At Hogwarts, there was a nursery school for the youngest Muggleborns and she learnt everything quickly, reading texts she'd found by sneaking into the Library and from different offices. "I was rather desperate for new things to read," she confided with a warm smile. He nodded and she went on to share how she'd started sitting in different classes with first years when she was six and seven, and by the time she got her wand at age eight, she insisted on being allowed to try to perform with the first year students.

"You did well, I take it?" he said, relishing the feel of her hand still in his. Moony was content as well, hearing about their Mate.

She used her free hand to cast another monitoring charm over his body. "Well enough." Flashing a smile at him, she elaborated. "I was allowed to begin first year studies just before I was eight. It was . . . irregular, but you know, with all the Muggleborn students here, it actually worked out well." With a smirk, she added, "You know, since the pure-blood students came when they were eleven and many of those who had been, ah, rescued as I was were already a year or so into their classes."

"Ha! So much for pure-blood magical superiority!"

"Well, to be fair, we had been granted wand rights early, so . . ."

"So you finished in seven years and then . . .?"

"I apprenticed with Masters from Hogwarts. Many of them were half-blood and the like, and when I was eighteen, I was qualified in Transfiguration and had, um, proposed a Wizarding Culture seminar to the Board." Remus laughed at her proud-but-embarrassed expression. "And then I was taken on as official Apprentice Healer as well, because Poppy trusted me. And then last year, I joined the staff here at Hogwarts. Now, take that draught, Professor Lupin."

"Remus. You said you'd call me Remus, Hermione."

"Remus. Get some rest, I'll see you at lunch. I'll have a room of second years waiting for me soon."

He downed the sleeping draught but didn't let go of her hand. He thought he might have felt a pair of soft lips on his forehead before he succumbed to sleep.

* * *

After he recuperated from the first full moon of the school year, Remus took time to become fully immersed in his new position. He'd spent so many years traveling, keeping Harry Potter's identity a secret—James Lupin or James Black were names easily overlooked—educating one young man whilst attaining masteries himself in a bid for a stable future, well it took some getting used to.

He might have been jealous, what with Sirius teaching the Transfiguration courses that Hermione wasn't covering, but for Sirius's entire dedication to getting Remus to tell Hermione that she was a werewolf's mate.

By Merlin's bloody broom!

Remus refused to do so, choosing instead to take his time—insofar as an impatient inner wolf allowed, anyway—to get to know the young woman who haunted his days and evenings.

She made her place to be next to his at every meal they shared at the head table. First Hogsmeade weekend at the end of September? She found her way to joining him and Sirius as they pulled duty in the small town. Sirius regaled her with Marauder tales, teasing Remus and reminiscing about their friends James and Peter, who had been essential to plotting and executing pranks for years.

Soon the full moon came around again and, that day, she appeared at his classroom door as the sixth year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were filing out.

"Professor Lupin, may I have a moment of your time?"

"Oi, Lupin! Silencing Charms!" one young lion called.

"Five points from Gryffindor for inappropriate remarks," Remus retorted.

Hermione blushed. "Sorry about that, Remus."

"I'm sorry. Rowdy gits. I mean _scholars_ ," he amended, amused. "Come in."

She did, moving past him slowly, inhaling a bit as if she were finding comfort in his proximity. Inwardly, he preened at the mere notion.

Until she spoke. "So, I was wondering if I might join you and Sirius Tuesday night."

All the ease he had developed with her evaporated in a heartbeat. "What?"

She just looked at him before shrugging her shoulders and transforming into a golden kneazle with a puffy brown tail. The little magical feline leapt to the top of Remus's desk and glared at him with a sense of So there! in its, her?, eyes.

He couldn't help it, he had to pet her. So he did, relishing the way the kneazle arched into his hand. "Right. So you want to join us."

"Mrowr."

He picked her up, possessed by he knew not what, and brought her to eye level with himself. "I've not had a feline with me when I changed," he whispered seriously. "So if you come, a wolf and a canine might take issue with your being there and Apparition is not an option in the Shack. Can you promise me to leave if my canine friend says it's not safe for you?"

All at once, he had his arms full of brave, spunky, brilliant, brunette witch. She transformed back whilst he held her and he couldn't make himself put her down, though he kept her head on level with his own.

"I promise," she whispered. Then, with an impish smile she added, "And oooh, what strong arms you have, Mister Wolf."

"I do know Muggle fairy tales," he said, blushing as he finally set her to her feet.

She made a show out of straightening her professorial robes. "So may I join you?"

"Yes."

* * *

 ** _2 October 2001_**

"A cat."

"Kneazle, Pads," Remus said. Again. "And she'll be here soon. Be nice."

"She showed you her form?" Sirius asked, his tone implying that the woman had stripped and given him a lap dance, for Merlin's sake. He winked, though, as he tugged off the white undershirt he wore. Barechested, he flexed his arms. "So, what do you think. Will she be impressed?"

"With you?" Remus nodded. "Possibly. So you should go upstairs and I'll join you once she's here so she can have privacy."

"Take away a man's fun!" He laughed and snagged his shirt from the chair where he'd tossed it. "I'll wait for you, Wolfman. Go on, you should follow my excellent example. It's not like she hasn't seen you mostly naked before, yeah?"

"What? No!" Remus felt his throat and cheeks heat up with his embarrassed denial. "We never, I mean—"

Sirius was laughing fit to rattle the walls. "In the _Infirmary_ , you berk. Oh look, I think I hear her now. Hello, Professor Granger!" he called as he disappeared from view.

"Hello, Professor Black!" Hermione entered the refurbished drawing room and Remus suddenly didn't know what to do with himself. He shoved his hands in his pockets as she looked about. "Nice place you have here, Remus."

He snorted, instantly more at ease. _She knows! She knows us!_ Moony said with a happy sort of anticipation. _We'll get to play with her tonight!_

"Minerva had it fixed up for me. Er, Sirius and I will change upstairs to give you some privacy, all right?" He waved a hand to indicate her still-clothed body, slender and perfect in front of him. Clearing his throat, he added, "Sirius sometimes puts his things in the cupboard, there, behind you. We try not to break it."

Hermione smiled, her eyes warm in the candlelit parlour. "Thank you." Then, she crossed the small room to him and, after hesitating, she gently cupped his jaw in an intimate manner she hadn't used before with him. "Remus, I'm honored to be here and I hope that everything will work out fine. But if it doesn't, if things get, er, _messy_ , I won't blame you, all right? I'm doing this with my eyes open." The tips of her fingers left warm, tingling trails as she slowly let her hand fall away. "Thank you for letting me join you."

He caught her hand in his, hating to lose the contact. "Thank you for volunteering. Moony'll behave himself. What is, what is your form's name?"

Hermione blushed a bit and dropped back a pace or so. "Well, Professor McGonagall was my mentor during my Animagus training and she got to name my form. I'm Feronia."

"Feronia . . ." Remus shook his head. "Is that Latin? A Roman deity, as Minerva? They sound of the same ilk."

"Feronia, yes. She was known for granting freedom to lower echelons of society, and since I had this thing for freeing house-elves when I was twelve, she thought it would be . . . amusing. And before you say anything, yes, I know that freeing them isn't the answer. I'll find one, though. Eventually."

"I have no doubt of it," he assured her, stepping back to the stairs. His skin was itching and he could feel the twinges, deep within himself. "I need to go. Don't come up until you're entirely Feronia, all right? Moony . . . well, he will need to get used to you."

"I look forward to meeting him, as well. And Padfoot." She grinned broadly. "And, I brought potions with me, so I can take care of some of your morning-after concerns right here, all right?"

Overwhelmed, Remus could only nod. _She really is our Mate_ , he whispered to his alter-ego.

 _Mate! We get to play with her tonight!_

* * *

Moony howled when he saw the large kneazle enter the room where he and Padfoot were wrestling. Padfoot was his friend. Padfoot was Pack. Padfoot was trusted above all others. But then Feronia entered. A feline but still, she stirred Moony so much that he leapt away from Padfoot and landed in front of the bright-eyed kneazle, wagging his tail.

 _Feronia!_

The feline arched her back and whipped her tail about with some authority as she walked about Moony and then to Padfoot, smacking the Grim on the muzzle with the fluffy brown end of her tail. Moony barked his amusement, and the Grim swiped lazily at the feline with one careful paw.

Moony was not to be outdone, though. He settled low on his belly and sniffed as Feronia came back to him. _Mine!_ he thought happily.

The kneazle didn't look as if she belonged to anyone, but she did consent, at length, to trailing her tail over Moony's flank and gathering her scent about herself.

For Moony, it was pure delight. Which he had, of course, had to express by a thorough bout of more wrestling!

* * *

 _ **3 October 2001**_

"Hermione," Remus murmured, his voice hoarse and rasping as he regained his humanity after a long night spent with Padfoot and Feronia. "You still here?" He inhaled as deeply as his sore chest would allow. "Smells like it," he remarked to himself, but since she had been there the night before, it might be a lingering trace of her, not Hermione herself.

But then, he felt soothing hands, warm and kind, pulling up a light blanket over his naked form. "I'm here, Remus. It's good to see you again." Careful fingers threaded through his hair, and the sensation was intensely amazing on his stressed skin. "I had a lovely evening, by the way. And I enjoyed spending time with Moony."

Apprehension grew in him and he made himself open an eye to find her. The face that went with her soothing voice. "Everything is all right, today?"

"Moony was . . . wonderful. Very welcoming."

Relaxation made him a bit careless. "Well, yeah, you're his mate. Of course he was welcoming." Then, her fingers still and he recollected what he'd just said and swore softly.

"Hush," Hermione murmured, Summoning a tray with phials of potions and such, she then peeled back the blanket. "I'm not a bit frightened, you know. Nor surprised. I have felt, Remus, an affinity with you from the very first moment I shook your hand."

Doubt warred with amazement. "You, you have?"

She whispered charms and applied her medications and he felt comforted and cared for under her hands. "I have. That's why I asked Poppy for the honor of being here for you after the moons."

"You did? Listen to me, I sound like an idiot. I'm sorry, Hermione. I don't think I'm up for this conversation just yet."

She laughed lightly and, to his delight and pleasure, placed a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. He would have grown hard in that moment if he'd had the energy, he knew. "Well, then, how about we find some time this weekend, perhaps? I can ask the elves to make us your favorite dinner and we can eat in my quarters."

Remus rolled over to sit up, barely remembering to bring the blanket over his lap as he did so. Hermione was indeed there, dressed in a woolen jumper and pair of trousers, though her feet were bare. Her honeyed curls were tamed into a braid and she was indeed smiling. For him. "You're serious?" he asked softly.

"No, _Padfoot_ is Sirius. I'm Hermione. I'm the _kneazle_ ," she said, teasing with a lilt to her voice he responded to immediately. "For the record, Feronia is also the goddess associated with wildlife and fertility."

Remus was speechless for a full minute, then he grew bold and slowly brought one sore arm to wrap around Hermione's pliant form. "I think you must be perfect," he whispered before brushing his lips over hers.

She carefully, so carefully, caressed his shoulder with one hand and he relished the subdued excitement she brought to him, depleted as he was. "I'll try very hard to be a good Mate," she whispered.

He caught his breath and pressed his forehead to hers. "You're already the best thing that's happened to me in twenty years. And that includes the defeat of Voldemort."

She laughed and drew a bit away from him to rise to her feet and help him do likewise. "Careful, all this praise will go to my head."

Remus was grateful for the clothes she must have gathered from the cupboard before she came to him that morning, and he put them on without shame. She was his Mate. His other half. The woman he was meant to be with.

As they left the Shack just as the sun was pinking up the sky, she took a slow breath. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." He was glad for her arm around him, relieved that her potions were already taking effect.

"Without Moony, would we be here right now?"

It was an astute query. Remus, though, knew exactly how to answer it. "Eventually, yes. Because, Miss Hermione Granger, I think you're practically perfect in every way."

"I am _not_ Mary Poppins."

"I'm not a chimney sweep."

"Do you really think . . .?"

They were still discussing the merits of Disney romances as they passed through the Great Hall to get some breakfast.

* * *

 ** _Dear Prongslet~_**

 ** _Moony won the day! Now, we have to find your other half. Are you busy this weekend?_**

 ** _Love, your Dad,_**

 ** _~Padfoot_**

* * *

 _A/N: A not-so-nice account of the Snape and Lily matter will be forthcoming eventually. Just not today. Lily will have her vengeance._


	2. Prequel: Lily's Vengeance

_**A/N:** This is the prequel, if you will, to _**_Moony's Mate_** _. It was going to be posted separately, but **Katmom** the **Magnificent** advised that it could be posted here. So if you wondered what happened to Lily and Snape? Here is my idea._

 _There is no sexual assault in this story , but there is kidnapping and forcible cohabitation and other unpleasantness. Remember, this is an AU._

 _And because I keep forgetting, please remember that though I have many copyrights out in the world, this is not among them, nor will it ever be. All things_ ** _Harry Potter_** _are the property of J.K. Rowling and all to whom she has given license. I just like to, well, stir the pot. Cauldron. Thing._

* * *

 **Lily's Vengeance**

Severus Snape broke out in a cold sweat, there in the "throne room" the Dark Lord had established at the Avery estate. Killing all those who are Muggle-born? That was the topic of such vituperative discussion?

"Why not kill the Muggles as well?" demanded Macnair, the bastard.

The Dark Lord, gray-tipped hair gleaming in the light of a hundred candles, smiled thinly. "Someone must be here for us, you see. And to appease . . . certain elements." He cast a glance at Fenrir Greyback. "Besides, we must be kept abreast of their doings. They outnumber our kind at this juncture. But it shall not always be so. Killing the Muggle-born, of course, we do, as they have perverted the sacred identity of Magic. They must not be allowed to live. They are worse than Muggles and they can pose a danger if there are too many of them, so . . ."

Snape didn't know if he was the only one who saw how very many weaknesses their lord was displaying. Perhaps fear was a greater motivator than reason, after all.

It was time, he decided, to make his play. To give to his lord a bit of important information and, hopefully, secure the safety of the only person he, Snape, had ever loved.

"A word, my lord," he murmured as the other turned to leave the room.

"Severus. Of course. What is your . . . word?"

Kneeling, his eyes cast to the floor, and endeavoring to control the tremors that coursed through him, Severus Snape repeated the prophecy he had heard, knowing it would spell death for at least one innocent child. As long as she lived, that was all that mattered, in the end.

* * *

"St. Mungo's reports five children who have been most recently born, my lord. We could seek all those born in a larger timeframe—"

Severus's words were cut off with a sharp stroke of the Dark Lord's hand. "No. I have a . . . sense about this, Severus. Hmmm . . . The Potters. Damnable fools. Longbottoms. No. Both sets of parents fit the prophecy you shared with me, but the Potters' brat was the only one born on the dying day of the seventh month."

Severus felt as if his heart had been gripped in a vise. "But, Lily, my lord?"

Tom Riddle grimaced and shook his head, forcing his focus upon his minion. Summoning all of his will, he ran a gentle hand over the dark, bowed head before him. "Still, my friend?"

"Always," Severus whispered.

"Then, your reward for alerting me to this prophecy will be the object of your devotion. The child, of course, must die—" He waited to assure himself of Severus's assent to this. If he disagreed, well, Potions Masters could be replaced. At the quick nod, Riddle continued. "And his father."

" _Potter_. Yes."

"But you may take Lily for your own to keep . . . safe." He smiled inwardly to note how relief and something perhaps akin to happiness looked in the younger man's face. For a moment, the careful mask, the stiff guard, were dropped entirely.

"I shall do so, my lord. And . . . thank you."

Severus understood that such a favor put him in this man's power for the duration of his life, but he did not think that was too high a price to pay.

* * *

"What's taking so long?" the Dark Lord demanded. "It's time. It must be tonight!"

They had a limited amount of time to slay the problematic, prophesied child before the opportunity elapsed. Voldemort had already seen to shielding the manor, putting all the other homes under a strange, blanketing ward that would keep the residents oblivious to any outside sounds. But the wards weren't permanent and if they disintegrated early, the Aurors could be called and there would go this opportunity.

And then there was the problem of the manor itself.

"Your ward breakers are doing their best," Goyle whispered. He was a bodyguard of sorts for the Dark Lord. His senses were acute, but his ward-breaking skills were minimal.

"Sirius Black is in there. Black wards must have been established," Severus decided after studying the flares of magic. "Might you call Bellatrix Lestrange here? She's got the blood."

In a rare show of familiarity, the Dark Lord clapped Severus on the shoulder. "Excellent."

Bella, of course, was only too happy to spill her blood to overcome the wards on Potter Manor.

Voldemort felt _his_ blood heat with the desire to attack. Destroy. Triumph.

"My lord, they look to be ready," Severus murmured.

"Excellent." His Death Eaters stood at attention, all but indistinguishable from one another save for his lovely Bella's untamed hair which curled out from her, sparking a need in him that he hadn't felt in some time. He pushed it away. "Remember the plan," he told them as they gathered around him. "They're waiting for us, undoubtedly. Overwhelm them. Severus and I will take care of the babe and his mother." He saw the Potions Master touch a pocket as if for reassurance. Perhaps some device for restraining the Mudblood. "Ready?"

"Yes, my lord," they said in a clustered whisper.

"Do it."

* * *

Severus Disillusioned himself before they went into the manor. Still, he fired slicing hexes at the werewolf and at Black, hoping to leave them bleeding on the floor whilst he sought Lily.

"Pads! Get Lily!" Potter shouted and Sirius knew all he'd have to do was follow the blood traitor. Easy.

The Dark Lord swept past him, pushing Black out of the way as soon as they heard, "James!" from one of the upstairs rooms.

Severus's heart throbbed in his chest as he _Finite'd_ the Disillusionment for himself, put up a powerful ward at the nursery door where Lily's red hair shone like a warm beacon. No one would enter this room. No one.

"Ah, there is he," the Dark Lord said, his voice ringing with triumph.

"Not Harry, not Harry! Please, not Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl. Stand aside now!"

Mouth dry, Severus watched the Dark Lord hit Lily with a wandless Stunner, so that she fell right into Severus's own arms. He Bound and Silenced her, apologizing in his mind whilst the Dark Lord cast an _Avada_ at the crying toddler in the cot. Then, when the infantile Potter fell over, the Dark Lord executed a _Bombarda Maxima!_ at the wall, causing it to explode outward into the night.

Severus thanked his lord with a quick bow whilst he enlarged his broom and, Sticking Lily to the broomstick itself, leapt to fly from the manor. Looking briefly down, he saw the body of James Potter surrounded by the bodies of three Death Eaters.

The werewolf was binding two more. Severus left them to their fate.

* * *

The celebrations were ongoing in the Dark Lord's throne room, but Severus was grateful not, for that night, to be a part of them. The moans of sexual gratification, the wagers being placed on orgasms in a certain time frame, the bets placed on duels and their outcomes. There were, at the apparent victory of the Dark Lord, a million reasons to be optimistic. A call had gone out to round up Muggles for "entertainment", even.

Severus shuddered. He grew up in his earliest years around Muggles. He didn't wish their participation for anything. Thankfully, he didn't have to watch.

Instead, he took his grateful leave from Voldemort.

"I thank you, my lord, for the gift of Lily Potter's life," he said. The woman herself was still and bound, lying next to Severus on the floor. "I am in your debt."

"You gave me something of great value, Severus," Voldemort said, something like affection in his tones. "I have thus given to you. There is no debt, but I do wish your continued service."

"Of course, my lord."

"You are dismissed."

Relieved, Severus bowed again, kneeling on the floor before rising to his feet, gathering Lily up in his arms, and carrying her to the Floo, which had been activated to take him to Spinner's End.

Upon regaining his balance with his precious cargo, he had a couple of options, but decided in the end to close the Floo, take Lily with him to his room, and put a tracking charm on her just in case someone double-crossed him. Then, he showered, put on fresh robes, and prepared a simple meal of eggs and beans and toast from his stores in stasis. It was Sunday and he and Lily would have to come to some kind of an arrangement or he'd have to take a leave of absence from his position at Hogwarts.

When all was in readiness, but before the sky gave any indications of dawn, Severus brought Lily to the drawing room of his small house and revived her. He still, though, left her bound for a moment. He didn't know if she had her wand on her but he was not taking any chances.

She woke up screaming. "Harry!"

"Lily!" Severus begged, dropping to his knees on the floor next to her. She hushed immediately. He swallowed. "You're safe, Lily. Entirely. It was the level best I could do, I swear it."

Her breath came in pants as she struggled against her binding. "Free me, Severus Snape, or so help me—"

"When I am sure you won't hex me or run, Lily."

She ceased to struggle momentarily and closed her eyes. She was wearing a black Muggle jumper and jeans, with trainers. "Harry."

Snape whipped up a silent _Protego_. "He's dead, Lily."

A tear slid out from under her eyelid, making a small track to her hair, where it was absorbed. "How? How did that bastard kill my son?"

"Painlessly, I swear it. An Avada," he whispered. The death of the toddler meant nothing to him, truly, until he saw the agony etched into the lines of Lily's face. Her eyes were still closed. He cleared his throat. "Your husband . . . died fighting." It killed him to praise Potter in any way, but he felt he had to say something to the grieving widow. "He . . . made a good accounting."

More tears as she clenched her jaw and keened to the ceiling. He let her without hindrance, removing her binding at last and calling a silent _Accio wand!_ when he did so.

Nothing came to him. Likely, her wand was in her hand when the Dark Lord invaded the nursery and it was probably dropped when she'd been Stunned. After a few moments, he remembered he had food ready, and tea in stasis, so he cleared his throat again.

"I know it's not the best time, perhaps, but you do need to eat, Lily. I have some breakfast and tea . . ."

"Why am I here, Severus?" she asked, her voice clogged and broken.

"I was allowed to save you," he declared, remembering to keep his voice humble. He wouldn't tell her why he had been granted that boon, however. "And I brought you to my house. You know, the old place on Spinner's End."

Her eyes shot open, but she didn't look at him, choosing instead to sit up slowly, a hand to her head as she looked about the cramped, book-lined room. "Oh, Sev," she whispered. "Wow. Right. So. I'm here on sufferance?"

"No! I just, er, you know, am the Potions Professor at Hogwarts, so I'll need to be back unless . . ."

Tears were still dripping down her cheeks. "Unless what?"

"Unless, Lily, you and I can come to an arrangement."

She whipped her head around so that her hair flew out like the flame whip. "What kind of an arrangement?" she demanded, drawing her body in on itself in protection. He knew that posture well.

He held up a careful, wand-free hand. "Nothing untoward. I want you . . . oh, Lily. I want you to be safe. Safe from everything. I swear to you, you will get no ill-treatment from me. You know how I despise that."

She huffed and dropped her head. "I know. I am not going to have sex with you, Severus Snape, just because you saved my life."

"No! Of course not! I'd never demand such a thing!" He wouldn't object—ever—if she came to him freely, of course, but he valued Lily too highly to even think of forcing himself on her under any circumstance. "How can I prove myself?"

"You can make me an Unbreakable Vow on your life and magic."

He took a sharp breath. "To do what?"

"To refrain from ever using Legilimency on me and to make sure your lord doesn't, either. And to swear to keep me safe from harm."

He looked it over for a full minute in his mind. It might be hard to keep the Dark Lord from her mind, but he'd suffer much for Lily Evans. He always would. "All right. I'll have to find a binder."

"Do that. Until then, I refuse to look you in the eye."

After a couple of uncomfortable, horrible minutes of silence. Severus rose to his feet and offered her his hand to do likewise. Perhaps it was their childhood friendship that made this easier to get through than he had feared.

* * *

 _He doesn't know. He doesn't know. He doesn't know. He doesn't know._

It was a mantra that Lily chanted to herself over the coming days, weeks, and months.

 _He doesn't know. He doesn't know. He doesn't know._

Harry was, God willing, still alive. If the Dark Wanker—Sirius had called him that and even _thinking_ of him had Lily's heart aching with memories—had indeed used an _Avada_ and left, thinking the deed was done, Harry was alive. She had finished with the runic protections. She had done the spell. She had done everything she could do. She and James and Sirius and Remus had talked about the various possibilities and they had all agreed that her option was the best option . . . and then she'd Obliviated James's memory about it. Just in case.

 _He doesn't know. He doesn't know._

The plan that likely held out was that Sirius or Remus would have grabbed Harry and run. Far, far away. She would keep alert to the newspapers and the wireless to see if any gossip caught on about the Black Rebel, Sirius Orion Black himself, off womanizing half of Europe.

So long as she could keep Severus or the Dark Wanker from knowing Harry was alive—he had to be alive, he had to be!—every sacrifice was worth it.

And Severus had sworn on his life and magic that he would not invade her mind nor allow his lord to do so. And he had vowed to keep her safe. And then he Obliviated the Binder for that vow and her secret was safe.

And he didn't know.

* * *

"Of course, my boy. She can live here with us. We can keep her safe as well, yes? I am sure that, that your _other_ master will not object your keeping her safe."

Thus the promise had been made and Severus had been almost happy. A feeling so foreign he didn't know quite how it registered. She shared quarters with him, but never his bedroom. That was entirely fine with him. He had asked if they could, perhaps, endeavor to be civil and she said she could.

Sometimes, she would hear news on the wireless about a Wizarding warrior in some other country. One of them had the last name of Black, which was a common enough name in Britain, as well as elsewhere. There were Blacks on both sides of the war, and if Sirius and a cousin were fighting, well, so long as they stayed away from Lily, that was all Severus could ask for.

She helped to organize the Muggle-born Nursery School program at Hogwarts when the Dark Lord set about to eliminate those first-generation magicals from Britain. One of the brightest children to be brought in was a girl by the name of Granger, which stuck in Severus's mind as her name seemed to link back to the legendary Potioneer.

Severus was eager to help Lily with her project; it brought her such joy to be able to help those who were, as she had been, new to magic.

He kept her far away from the Dark Lord, bringing her forth only once a year, to express his gratitude. Lily knew, at those times, to act as his mistress and she did so. Superficially smiling into his eyes as a lover might. Leaning against him.

He kept her close on those nights and they escaped as early as they could.

Once, he had been tempted to dive into her mind to see if she had, at all, softened toward him, but his wrists stung painfully and he stopped.

Her mind was her own. He would give anything if her heart could be his . . . but he was content. And almost happy.

* * *

Severus looked at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, that morning in February, 2001. His face was lined with worry, a bit. His hair was lank. He was tired. So very tired. The Dark Lord's Britain had settled into a tense sort of normality, after all this time.

"We knew this was coming," Professor Dumbledore told the staff the night before at an emergency staff meeting. "The wards might indeed be breached, but we are strong, here in Hogwarts. Our home is strong and we have a staff and student body of great power. I have faith in our ability to protect the school."

They had advance notice of the coming Death Eater attack due to Severus himself. He spied for Dumbledore. He spied for Voldemort. He wore himself out playing one against the other, guarding his mind, shielding his thoughts. But he got to come home to Lily, and had for almost twenty years. She healed the wounds he received at the hands or commands of the Dark Lord and fed him potions and helped him rest after a particularly bad session. After all, they had been friends, once. And they were, again.

And she was going to be in danger. Again.

He met her in their common room, studying her as she fluffed short, white-peppered hair out over the collar of her body armor.

"Severus. Do you have your blood replenisher?"

He shook himself out of a reverie. "Yes. We'll be fine, Lily. He knows to leave you alone. My service has been . . . valuable."

She met his eyes, then. Hers were guarded but acknowledged the many hurts he had suffered on behalf of the Order of the Phoenix as well as for her. "He is immortal," she said, the statement almost sounding like a question.

"So he believes. But . . ." He shrugged. He did hope that one of his masters would die, that day. He was so. Very. Tired. He'd prefer it to be Voldemort. He'd rather see his blood spill or his head explode or, well, any manner of deaths for that man.

"Right, then. Just take care of yourself." She approached him, then, hand extended. "I would not want to think of what would happen to me if you weren't here and he was."

It was a possibility that seized his heart on occasion, but he nodded solemnly. "Neither would I."

They met the Death Eaters on the grounds of Hogwarts, but Severus didn't see the Dark Lord anywhere. Word had it that he was waiting for the resistance to be beaten down before he swept in to confront Dumbledore.

Severus stayed by Lily's side and, after all these years, no one gainsaid him.

Dumbledore was slain.

* * *

The Wizarding Wireless was full of the mourning of thousands. Lily counted herself among them the day after the Battle of Hogwarts. Wrapped in a blanket, clutching a cup of hot cider, she hunched over the table in the remains of the Great Hall.

Minerva's voice was tight, disbelieving when she twirled her wand. "Wait! Be quiet, all of you!"

" . . . and we have confirmed that Harry Potter, long thought to have been dead, is alive! Yes, he is and, with Sirius Orion Black, Head of the House of Black and Remus Lupin, he is meeting with He Who Must Not Be Named!"

The chaos was extraordinary, and all eyes turned to Lily's own.

Triumph, though, flushed through her veins. She tossed off her blanket and stood, feeling the gooseflesh rise on her skin and her eyes light with the knowledge that her son had lived to fulfill his destiny. "To Harry!" she shouted.

Beside her, Severus gaped, his eyes dark and, for once, entirely vulnerable. "You knew?" he whispered.

"To Harry!" everyone shouted, willing to believe Lily or at least give her the appearance of their support. She didn't care. She knew the truth. Her son lived!

Minutes later, though, her sorrow overwhelmed her.

"Though it seems that he did indeed kill He Who Must Not Be Named," the announcer said, his voice clogged, "he himself was struck once again with the Killing Curse."

Ignoring everyone around her, Lily dragged herself to the quarters she shared with Severus. Her son was dead.

It simply never occurred to her that the runic protections she'd placed on Harry would still be viable. After decades? No.

So she went to her room and found the Muggle firearm she'd had smuggled in from one of the Muggleborn a few years ago. She knew exactly what to do.

Severus would pay.

* * *

In the Great Hall, a loud banging resounded, echoing from the ruins of curse-marked walls and burnt ceiling beams.

"A gun?" Hermione Granger asked, her eyes wide as she rose to her feet to investigate.

"Muggle weapon? Shit! Did a Death Eater really bring one of them?"

As a phalanx of teachers and older students stormed out of the Great Hall to locate and neutralize what they thought was a threat, they didn't see Severus Snape stare at his wrists . . .

In moments, he was dead. As dead as Lily Potter.

* * *

The sound of a grown man weeping with incredulous joy over the wireless was only heard by the ghosts.

"…Merlin's Beard! He's getting up! Harry Potter is alive! Alive!"

* * *

 _ **A/N:** It is a sad thing that Lily made herself be apart from her son for so long, but she did it believing fully that he would triumph and that her sacrifice would have been worthwhile. And it was, but she didn't know that. Dark stuff, remember. _

_One can imagine that Harry will one day hear all about his mum from Hermione, Minerva, and other people who knew her. There will likely even be pictures._


End file.
